


No. No, I Will Not Marry You.

by where_havealltheflowers_gone



Series: Annabelle Elizabeth Gallagher-Milkovich [8]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Daddy!Ian, Daddy!Mickey, Established Relationship, Ian jumping to conclusions, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mickey not using his words, Misunderstandings, What else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where_havealltheflowers_gone/pseuds/where_havealltheflowers_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian asks Mickey to marry him.  </p>
<p>Mickey says no for reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No. No, I Will Not Marry You.

**Author's Note:**

> Literally no clue where this came from.

Mickey was still smiling when he unlocked the door to their apartment and let himself in. 

“You look happy,” Ian observed from where he was looking through the mail at the kitchen table. “Something good happen?”

Mickey shrugged. “Might be about to. Where’s the kid?”

“Right here!” Annabelle yelled, running from her room to wrap her arms around Mickey’s legs.

He scooped her up. “Miss me much?”

She hugged Mickey’s neck. “I always miss you, Daddy.” She glanced at Ian before she cupped her hands over Mickey’s ear. “You’re my favorite,” she whispered. 

“And you’re bad at whispering,” Ian teased from his seat.

She giggled as Mickey put her down.

“Go to your room for a second, babes,” Ian said, “I gotta talk to your Dad for a second.”

She skipped off, the door to her room latching softly behind her. 

Ian stood, circling his arms around Mickey’s waist and bending to nuzzle at his neck. “Love you,” he mumbled.

“You too,” Mickey answered. 

Ian kissed his jaw. “Say it.” 

“I just did.” 

Ian sighed and pulled back to look down at Mickey. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” 

“Will you marry me?”

Mickey felt his mouth go dry. “Wha- Why… I mean,” he stammered. He moved away. 

“Why do you look horrified?” 

“I just… I, um,” Mickey searched for the words to explain. “No,” he heard himself say. 

“No?” Ian questioned, “No, you’re not horrified?” He lowered his voice, whispering, “Or no, you won’t marry me?” 

“No,” Mickey said, “No, I will not marry you.”

“Why not?”

Mickey shrugged, a move that felt far too casual for the pounding in his head. “What’s the point? It’s just a piece of paper.” 

Ian just stared at him, eyes clouding. “Yeah,” he said after the silence felt too heavy, his voice rough, “yeah.” He nodded and swallowed. “It doesn’t signify commitment or love or anything like that.” He looked at Mickey darkly. “It’s just a piece of paper.”

“Right,” Mickey said. A sharp pang crept into his chest, and his brain was chanting ‘TELL HIM! TELL HIM! TELL HIM!’ But Mickey said nothing. 

Ian shook his head and turned to move into their bedroom. “There’s dinner in the fridge,” he said over his shoulder right before he slammed the door.

 

“We’re good, right?” Mickey asked the darkness later that night. 

He thought for a second Ian was asleep- and not just faking, like he had thought- when he didn’t get an immediate answer. But then he heard, “We’re fine.” 

And he let himself believe it.

 

They were not fine. 

Mickey came home to Ian’s bags packed and the redhead sitting on the couch, examining the floor. “You going on some kind of trip?” Mickey asked. 

Ian got to his feet, looking at Mickey with shining eyes. “No, I’m moving out.”

“Why?” 

Ian knelt to pick up his bag. He avoided the older man’s eyes. “I love you. I want to be with you. I want it to mean something.” 

Mickey stepped closer to him. “Why do we need rings and a ceremony for it to mean something?” 

Ian looked up, disbelief painted across his face. “It’s not about that, Mickey,” he said incredulously.

“Then what is it about, Gallagher?” 

Ian blinked the tears away. He pointed a finger at Mickey, angry. “It’s about you finally committing to me, in front of people. Standing up and saying, ‘I don’t give a fuck what you think, and I love this person.’ Why is that so hard?”

Mickey ran a hand over his face. “I don’t get why you need this.” 

Ian’s face got hard. “And that’s why this isn’t going to work.” 

Mickey felt water forming behind his pupils. “Don’t leave me again,” he murmured. 

Ian kissed his forehead, hand ghosting over his hip. “Tell Anna I love her. This doesn’t change that.” He turned the knob of the door.

Mickey thought of the ring he had tucked away in his sock drawer. “You’re gonna feel really fucking stupid for this, Gallagher.” 

“Try to feed her something other than jello,” Ian muttered before yanking the door open and  
leaving.

 

“Where’s Daddy Ian?” Annabelle asked, mouth stuffed with mac n’ cheese.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mickey scolded half-heartedly. 

Annabelle swallowed. “Where did he go?” 

“Out.” 

“When’s he coming back?” 

“I don’t know, munchkin.” 

“I miss him.”

Mickey sighed and sat back in his chair. “Me too, kiddo.” He pet his daughter’s hair. “Me too.” He got up to put his bowl in the sink. 

“Daddy? He’s not coming back, is he?” 

Mickey gripped the sink, letting his head drop between his arms. He turned to face Anna and knelt down. She ran into his arms. “I’m gonna get him back, short stop,” he murmured into her curls, “I promise.” 

 

Mickey pounded the hotel room door. “Pipe down over there!” someone hollered from their room. 

“You pipe down, fucker!” he screamed back as Ian opened the door.

“Mickey?” Ian yawned. “Why are you here? Where’s Bells?”

“She’s with the old lady that lives under us. Can I come in?” 

“It’s late. You should go be with Anna.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” the same guy yelled. 

“Come out here and make me!” Mickey cried. He turned back to Ian. “I need to see you.”

Ian crossed his arms, slouching against the doorframe. “Not a good time.” 

“Like you’re fucking doing-“ Mickey stopped himself when he realized what Ian was doing. He smirked, then let it drop. “I don’t know where else to go.” 

Ian twisted half his mouth up and stepped back, leaving the door open. Mickey shut it behind himself. “If you came here because you’re horny, then-“ His words were stopped by Mickey’s mouth on his own. 

“Then what?” Mickey challenged as he ripped his coat off. 

“Then I’m gonna fuck you,” Ian breathed into Mickey’s mouth. 

 

“Hey,” Mickey whispered, sitting down on the bed. 

“Hmm?”

Mickey looked down at Ian, whose eyes were shut. Half of his hair was matted to his forehead, the other half sticking up in a way that Mickey could admit- at least to himself- was really fucking cute. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Does it involve moving?” 

Mickey smiled to himself. “Not at the moment.” 

“Can you do it yourself?” 

“Actually, no.”

Ian groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face against Mickey’s thigh. “What is it?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Marry me?” 

Ian’s head shot up. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Mickey held up the ring. “Not shitting you.”

Ian sat up, eyes locked on the piece of metal. “Did you buy that on your way over here?” 

“I bought it the day before you moved into this shithole.” 

Ian looked at him. “What?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey admitted.

“You… You only said no because you had already planned on proposing,” Ian said slowly, piecing it together. He punched Mickey in the arm, hard. “You fuck head!” he exclaimed before he tackled Mickey to bed with a hug. 

Mickey laughed. “Does that mean yes?”


End file.
